


Wotcher, Vic

by intotheyellowwoods



Series: Wotcher, Vic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 19 years later, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby Teddy Lupin, Best Friends, Childhood, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Next Generation, Next-Gen, Tedoire, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheyellowwoods/pseuds/intotheyellowwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy and Victoire through the years, from friendship to something more.<br/>//<br/>The first time Victoire meets Teddy, he’s two and she’s just been born. She doesn’t remember any of it, but later, much later, her parents would tell her that she’d gurgled at the sight of him like she’d known he was going to end up being her best friend. And then—this part is always accompanied by a knowing smirk—when they brought Teddy up to the new mother and daughter (“Das a bay-bee?” he’s later quoted as saying. “Weird.”), his hair changed from Weasley-red to the same shade of blonde as hers.<br/>“Zis ees Victoire,” her maman had said, smiling down at Teddy. “Do you want to say ‘ello, Teddy?”<br/>And Teddy had cocked his head to the side, nodded in the sort of pompous, overly-excited fashion that only a two-year-old could get away with, and said, “Wotcha, Vic.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wotcher, Vic

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Okay, this is a whopper of a fic.  
> If you haven't already, you should go and check out burdge's drawings of Teddy, becuase my Teddy is based off of them and they're just generally really awesome.  
> Also, I know that in the actual article from Pottermore, they say Teddy is sixteen. In this, he's seventeen because it fits better with the story. And the whole flashing-through-the-rainbow thing is based off of a headcanon I saw on tumblr by malfoypure.

The first time Victoire meets Teddy, he’s two and she’s just been born. She doesn’t remember any of it, but later, much later, her parents would tell her that she’d gurgled at the sight of him like she’d known he was going to end up being her best friend. And then—this part is always accompanied by a knowing smirk—when they brought Teddy up to the new mother and daughter (“Das a bay-bee?” he’s later quoted as saying. “ _Weird.”_ ), his hair changed from Weasley-red to the same shade of blonde as hers.

“Zis ees Victoire,” her _maman_ had said, smiling down at Teddy. “Do you want to say ‘ello, Teddy?”

And Teddy had cocked his head to the side, nodded in the sort of pompous, overly-excited fashion that only a two-year-old could get away with, and said, “Wotcha, Vic.”

//

By the time Victoire can talk and walk (and thus cause all sorts of trouble), she and Teddy are inseparable. Literally—Victoire throws tantrums that pay hefty tribute to her Veela heritage whenever she goes more than a few days without seeing her best friend. Sometimes, they hang out at Auntie And-rah-meh-da’s house, but most of the time, it’s either at the Burrow or Shell Cottage or sometimes even Uncle Harry’s house. Her _maman_ frowns when Victoire comes home with her hair a mess and her dress splattered with mud, but because Victoire’s cheeks are always flushed and her grin is set to devour her whole face, she doesn’t say anything.

After all, there’s always Cleaning Charms (and thank Merlin for them). And besides, as Victoire’s daddy likes to say when he thinks Victoire isn’t listening, “at least she’s still young enough that the only trouble she gets into with boys is a spot of mud.”

//

When Victoire turns two, her _maman_ and daddy sit her on the couch between them and tell her that she’s going to have a sister. Victoire doesn’t care much. A sister would be nice, she thinks. Teddy is nice, but he’s _four_ now. He’s old and sometimes he doesn’t want to hang out with her because she’s too young. Plus, he’s a boy. And boys are _gross_ , even _if_ they’re crazy-haired Metamorphmagus boys named Teddy. ( _Especially_ if.)

“My _maman_ ’s gonna have a baby,” she tells Teddy a few days later, lying down on the grass beside him.

Teddy doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just continues pulling up grass with stubby fingers. “Good,” he says suddenly, and she’s so surprised that she turns to face him. His hair is black like Uncle Harry’s. “You’ll have someone _else_ to play with.”

Victoire’s face screws up. “Why’re you so _mean_ tuh me?” she demands shrilly, sitting up and glaring at him.

Teddy turns away from her, his hair briefly taking on the same shade of green as the grass around them before returning to jet black. “Because I’m _older_ ,” he answers angrily, throwing his handful of grass at her. Most of it lands on her dress, but she can feel pieces of it in her hair. “I don’t want to play with babies like _you_ all the time.”

Victoire starts crying. She pushes herself off the ground and runs back to the safety of her home, wishing she’d never met Teddy Lupin. That Muggle girl from the nearby village was right—boys are meanies. But she never thought Teddy could be like them. He’d taught her how to colour and he played in the mud with her and brought her Chocolate Frogs when she was sad. He was nice… wasn’t he?

 _Or not._ Beyond furious and more than a little sad, she stomps into the cottage and slams the door behind her with as much force as she can muster. One of the panes of glass breaks, and her _maman_ comes running into the room at the noise, one hand cradling her tummy, eyes wide. Her daddy is only a few steps behind her, his forehead all scrunched up, wand in hand.

“What ees eet, _ma chérie_?” her _maman_ asks, crouching down and cradling Victoire’s face in her hands. Her beautiful features—her mother really is beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the whole world—are twisted with worry. “What ‘appened? Are you okay? Are you ‘urt? Where ees Teddy?”

When she hears Teddy’s name, Victoire starts to sob even harder. “He—he called me a _baby_ ,” she bawls, throwing her arms around her mother. “He said he was glad you’re havin’ a baby ‘cause then he doesn’t have tuh play with me anymore!”

Her mother pulls her onto her lap and starts to rock her back and forth, singing an old French lullaby under her breath. Victoire’s daddy looks angry, but he crouches next to her too, stroking her hair. “I don’t care if the kid’s four and basically family,” he mutters lowly to his wife. “I’m going to kill him.”

Victoire’s _maman_ giggles quietly as she continues to rock Victoire back and forth. “ _Beell_ ,” she says in the same tone of voice she uses on Victoire when she’s done something bad, “you cannot ‘urt every boy who ‘urts Veeky.”

“But I _want_ to,” Victoire’s daddy mumbles, sounding every bit like his daughter in her most petulant moments.

Victoire’s _maman_ huffs, but there’s a small smile playing out across her lips. “‘e is _young_ ,” she says firmly. “And ‘e _will_ make mistakes. Watch—’e will be back to apologize. ‘E cannot stay away.”

And sure enough, fifteen minutes later, there’s a timid knock on the door, and it’s Teddy, looking small and lost. “I—uh…” he trails off, his eyes flickering between his scuffed trainers and where Victoire stands behind her father, hands on her hips like Aunt Ginny when she wants to look intimidating. “I’m sorry, Vicky. I was being mean.”

Victoire’s already forgiven him—she forgave him five minutes ago. But she still darts out from being her father and plants a kick square on Teddy’s shin. It gets her a time-out from her mother and an irritated look from Teddy, but her father’s smiling into his palm, so it’s worth it.

//

Her sister is born four months before Victoire’s third birthday. Victoire’s in St. Mungo’s waiting room with Teddy and Andromeda—she only learned how to properly say the older woman’s name a few weeks ago—because there’s too much screaming in room where her mother and it smells too much like the Burrow after one of Grandma Weasley’s cleaning days.

Finally, a Healer finds them and tells them the baby has been born and _would you please come this way, ma’ams and sir_. Victoire, scared and nervous and excited all at the same time, grabs Teddy’s hand as they follow behind the adults. Teddy’s hair turns bright red—brighter than her daddy’s—but he doesn’t pull away.

When they reach the room, the rest of her family is already there, crowded around a bed, but they smile and make room for her once they spot her. Victoire catches sight of her mother with a bundle of blankets in her arms, hair dark with sweat, cheeks flushed. But both she and Victoire’s daddy, who’s hovering beside her and looking pale, are smiling widely.

Her mother motions for Victoire come closer. Victoire hasn’t let go of Teddy’s hand yet, so he just follows behind her shyly as she gets closer to the bed. “This ees your new sister, Veeky,” her _maman_ whispers hoarsely, holding the blankets out to Victoire.

Victoire looks down at the blankets, shocked to see a pair of blue eyes staring back at her somberly. It’s so _small_. Hesitantly, she reaches out a finger and touches one of the baby’s tiny fingers. The baby makes a noise that sounds a little like a laugh, and Victoire’s _maman_ smiles even wider. “‘Er name ees Dominique.”

Victoire doesn’t really understand what’s going on, but she hugs her mom anyways, and when Teddy whispers, “are all babies this ugly?” into her ear, she stomps on his foot even though she kind of agrees with him.

//

Victoire’s brother Louis arrives when Victoire is four and a half, and Shell Cottage becomes a warzone. Luckily, though Teddy is almost seven now— _way_ older than her—he still hangs out with her when he’s not seeing his other friends.

One day, when everyone’s at the Burrow for Sunday Brunch, he tells her that he’s going to teach Louis all his tricks. Victoire looks at him in her best Aunt Ginny impression—hands on her hips, upturned eyebrows, pursed lips, eyes blazing—and says, “ _what_ tricks, Teddy Lupin?” She’s just lost her childish lisp, and it makes her sound older. Teddy blanches.

“Blimey, Ted,” Uncle Ron laughs, clapping an affronted Teddy on the back. “You’d better watch out.”

//

After Louis is born, it seems like everyone’s having babies. First there’s Molly—not Grandma Molly, _baby_ Molly, Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey’s daughter—and then Aunt Ginny has James and Aunt Angelina has the twins, Fred and Roxanne. And then Aunt Hermione has Rose and Aunt Ginny has Albus, and Aunt Audrey has Lucy, and then finally Aunt Hermione has Hugo and Aunt Ginny has Lily.

Once Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny have James, Teddy starts to spend a lot more time at Shell Cottage instead of the Potters’. He says Harry’s place is loud and stinky and James is always crying, though it’s not much better at Shell Cottage—Dominique is two and a half now and just being potty-trained, and Louis is almost one and he cries a lot, too.

When she tells Teddy this, he just says, “yeah, but I like you better than James.”

(She doesn’t really understand the concept of love yet, but her face gets all hot and she feels like she’s just eaten a whole box of Peppermint Toads, and some part of her almost-six-year-old brain decides she really, really wants to marry Teddy one day.)

//

Being the oldest, Teddy quickly becomes the big brother of Victoire’s extended family. As James and Albus get older and Lily comes along, Teddy seems to change his mind about the Potters’ house. He begins to spend more and more time there and less and less time with Victoire, and by the time she’s eight and stuck with no one but her annoying siblings to play with, she’s learnt what _jealousy_ is.

Aunt Ginny must figure this out somehow, because one day she comes over to where Victoire is standing in their kitchen, poutily watching Teddy chase James and Al around the backyard through the window. “He’s still your friend, Vic,” she tells Victoire, bouncing a gurgling Lily on her hip. Outside, Teddy trips over his own feet and falls to the ground. James and Al, three and two respectively, take advantage of the situation to dogpile him. “Even if it doesn’t seem that way, he cares about you just as much as he cares about them.”

And Victoire knows this (sort of), but Teddy goes off to Hogwarts—a big place with lots of new people to be best friends with—in just over a year and she really doesn’t want to lose him until she has to.

//

It’s May 2nd, and Victoire’s at Hogwarts for a special memorial ceremony. Today is the eleventh anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, which Victoire is apparently still not old enough to know about, and also her ninth birthday. They haven’t really celebrated that yet—Victoire got a few presents earlier that morning, but that was about it. Her birthday is always a somber day, and as Victoire gets older, she becomes more and more aware of that. Being upstaged by the anniversary of one of the most important battles in magical history isn’t fun, especially when you feel guilty for being bitter about said upstaging.

After the ceremony finishes, she wanders aimlessly around the grounds, trying to take everything in. Teddy’s going to be going here in a few months, but it already feels like he’s gone to her. They barely see each other anymore now; he’s always off doing Important Big Kid Things or hanging round the Potters’.

Eventually, she finds a tree beside the lake and lies down in the shade, closing her eyes with a sigh. Her dress is itchy and the whole thing is way too formal, and to be honest she just really wants to go home and sulk. But she can’t—she has to be here for her family, for Uncle George’s dead twin and for Teddy’s parents.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts her after a few minutes. Victoire immediately flies up into a sitting position. “Whoa,” Teddy says, raising his hands up in the air with a tired smile. She relaxes a little but stays wary. His hair is brown today; Victoire isn’t sure if it’s for the somber occasion or in memory of his dad. “It’s just me.”

Victoire relaxes a little and flops back onto the ground, but doesn’t close her eyes again. Teddy sits down beside her, fidgeting nervously. “Happy birthday,” he says quietly, sneaking a glance at her.

“Thanks,” she says back, chewing on her lower lip. She kind of just wants him to leave her alone, but that would mean that they’re officially no longer best friends, and she’s not sure if she can take that.

After a few moments of tense silence pass, Teddy coughs awkwardly. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she answers, turning to face him reluctantly. “You?” And then she realizes how insensitive that is, because his parents died eleven years ago today, and no, he’s probably not _good_. “Oh, Merlin, Ted, I wasn’t even thinking, I’m so sorry—”

He starts laughing, really laughing, and shoves his hand over Victoire’s mouth to muffle her frantic apologies. “Shut up, Vic,” he says, grinning as she glares at him. “I’m fine.”

“Does this mean you’re done being a prat, then?” she asks after he’s pulled his hand away from her mouth, glad for the chance to use the word she so often hears Aunt Ginny calling Ron.

Teddy looks down again, all traces of laughter abruptly gone. “Yeah, I think so,” he tells the ground. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away like that, you know.”

“Well you did,” she snaps back accusatorily, turning her head away from him. Her mother blames the temper on the Weasley genes, but her father thinks it’s the Veela blood. Victoire secretly thinks it’s both.

“Bloody hell, Vic,” Teddy groans, looking over at her angrily. “I _said_ I was sorry. I _am_ sorry.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she huffs, but she’s fighting back a smile. “You’re forgiven.”

He grins almost as brightly as the sudden candy-floss pink of his hair, and Victoire can’t help but smile along with him.

//

By the time Teddy has to leave for Hogwarts, they’re almost back to being best friends.

His going-off party is huge; the entire family has squeezed itself onto the platform to see him off. Victoire waits at the edge of everyone, holding her sister’s hand. Dominique is seven now, and she’s already established herself as the family matchmaker. Victoire’s pretty sure her sister’s already planned out her and Teddy’s wedding. (Which is stupid, because contrary to her almost-six-year-old thoughts, Victoire doesn’t even _like_ Teddy that way. He’s just her friend. Yes, okay, he’s cute and funny and nice, but he’s just her _friend_.)

Finally, it’s Victoire’s turn to say goodbye. Everyone else has pulled back a little to give them a chance to talk, so it’s just her and Teddy, staring at each other awkwardly. Teddy’s hair is bright blue today; it’s been that way for the last month, the longest time that Victoire can remember it staying the same colour for the past couple years. (Before that it was purple or yellow or green, and even orange for a day or two.)

“So, uh, I’ll see you next summer,” Victoire says, shifting around on her feet. Even though the two of them are ‘alone’, Victoire is suddenly acutely aware of her family watching them.

“Yeah,” Teddy says, smiling a little with the right side of his mouth. “I guess I’ll see you then. Bye, Vic.” And then he turns to get onto the train. Victoire watches him walk away sadly, wishing he could stay, wishing she knew what to say to him.

The further he walks away, the more desperate she gets. She doesn’t want him to leave her—not now, not in two years, not ever. So when he’s only a few paces away from the train, she breaks and calls out, “wait, Teddy!”

He turns towards her and she all but rams into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. “I’m going to miss you,” she breathes into his chest, sniffling.

Teddy hesitantly hugs her back, his arms folding around her. “If I wasn’t a boy, I’d admit that I’ll miss you too,” he says. Victoire sniffles again, louder this time. “Vic, are you actually _crying_? _Merlin_.”

“Shut up, you great prat,” she chokes out, smacking her closed fist against his back.

Teddy laughs, pulling away from her and placing his hands on the tops of her shoulders. Victoire quickly swipes at her eyes with her shirtsleeves. “Stop crying,” he orders, looking around him to make sure no one’s watching. His hair is red with embarrassment. “I’m coming back on winter break and at Easter and I’ll be there over summer hols, okay? And I’ll owl you.”

“Promise?” Victoire hiccoughs, looking up at him.

“Promise,” Teddy answers. The train whistles, and he sighs. “Look, Vic, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at Christmas, okay?”

She nods, and with a kiss to her forehead so quick she’s not entirely sure it happened, Teddy climbs onto the train and disappears from view. Like he said, she doesn’t see him again until Christmas.

But the next morning, she wakes up to his owl, Moony, tapping at her window, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg.

_Dear Vic,_

_Hogwarts is awesome! I’m in Gryffindor. My dormmates are really cool. The food is great. I can’t wait ‘til you come to Hogwarts, Vic. I know you’ll love it here._

_Love,_

_Teddy_

Victoire keeps the letter—and every other one Teddy sends her over the next two years—in a box under her bed. By the time she leaves for Hogwarts, the parchment is tattered and almost falling apart from touching it so much.

//

She’s in Gryffindor. The rest of her family isn’t even at Hogwarts yet, but as soon as the hat calls out, “GRYFFINDOR!” her new House’s table erupts into cheers. Teddy, standing up and whistling with his fingers in the corners of his mouth, his hair red and gold for the occasion, is the loudest.

“I knew it,” he tells her as soon as she sits down, grinning crazily. “I _knew_ you’d be in Gryffindor.”

(She just hopes he can mistake her blush for a happy flush.)

//

They’re not best friends, but they’re pretty damned good ones. ‘Course, Teddy ditches her for Hogsmeade weekends with his friends—fellow Gryffindor third years—or the occasional girl, and he’s busy Chasing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but they spend a lot of time together for people two years apart.

But unfortunately, that age difference also creates a few problems, the most notable of them being the looks Victoire gets when they walk through the halls together. “What’s _she_ doing with _him_?” A Ravenclaw mock-whispers to her friend one day as Teddy and Victoire walk back to the Common Room after supper. A quick glance at the black-haired girl tells Victoire that she’s smirking maliciously.

Victoire shrinks in upon herself, her eyes watering. She knows why they’re so mean, too—Teddy’s cute, really cute. What with his personality—the git is funny, and he can be charming if he wants to—looks, and Quidditch skills (and the muscles he gets from playing Quidditch), he’s probably the most popular bloke in his year. And because of that, when girls look at Victoire, they see her as a threat. ( _Yeah, right_ , a not-so-helpful voice in her head likes to remind her when this happens. _As if he’d like_ you.) She should be used to it by now, but that hasn’t happened yet. She’s not sure if it ever will.

Teddy glares at the girl. “She’s my friend,” he answers, scowling at her. Only the tips of his hair turn black this time—he’s gotten better at not unconsciously changing hair colours since he got to Hogwarts and found out that it’s not exactly slick when your hair flashes red after a girl kisses you on the cheek. “Now lay off.”

The Ravenclaw and her friend hurry off in frightened tiptoes. Victoire hides her smile in her hair. “Sorry ‘bout that,” Teddy says apologetically, turning to her. “I don’t know why they’re like that.”

I _do_ , Victoire wants to say.  _You’re nice and funny and smart and cute._ But she just bites her tongue and tells herself that she’s glad people don’t know she’s part Veela—it’s bad enough being friends with Teddy and having people dislike you for it without them thinking that you’re bewitching him, too. (Not to mention that she sort of wishes she _could_ bewitch him.)

//

In Victoire’s second year, two Slytherin fourth years corner her in a hallway and take the living mickey out of her. _You’re so young and immature. Dumb blonde. You’re like Teddy’s little sister, aren’t you? He only hangs out with you ‘cause he feels sorry for you. I bet you don’t even have any other friends._ When Teddy finds out about it, his hair turns crimson and he stalks out of the Common Room with his wand held aloft. An hour later, he returns, grinning widely, and announces that he’s landed himself a detention.

“What did you _do_?” Victoire asks him, half-frightened, half-impressed.

“Pretended to be McGonagall and shouted at them,” he says cheerfully. “Gave them detention and everything. It was totally awesome. Worked until the realMcGonagall showed up and blew my cover, too.”

“Teddy!” she whines, but she’s laughing. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, grinning and slinging an arm over her shoulders. “And plus, after she gave me the detention she told me I was just like my father and awarded Gryffindor 20 points.”

Only Teddy. _Honestly_.

(And the next summer, when a prefect badge falls out of Teddy’s school envelope, he swears that it’s all because of the time he pretended to be McGonagall.)

_//_

Victoire manages to fly fairly low on the bloke-radar until the summer before third year, when puberty hits her like the Knight Bus. Even Teddy is surprised at the change (“Wow, Vic,” he tells her one day, holding up a photo from last year’s Weasley Christmas Party. “You look like a _girl_ now.”).

And she’s not the only one who’s changed. At the end of June, Teddy discovers a box full of his mother’s old records and band tees, and come September, he’s gotten an undercut and pierced his ears—a thick silver ring through each earlobe and another through the pointed part of his left ear. When Victoire goes over to visit, she can hear music with loud guitars and heavy drums thudding through the floor of his room.

“What, you don’t like it?” he asks her teasingly when she brings up his new style, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

She punches him in the arm to keep from telling him just how much she _does_ like it. With an over-exaggerated roll of her eyes, she drawls, “Teddy Lupin, bad boy extraordinaire. Now don’t go breaking too many hearts, okay?”

(He just laughs and swings his arm around her shoulders, assuring her that she’s the only girl for him.)

But when they get to Hogwarts, it seems like _she’s_ the one who’ll be breaking hearts. The minute she walks into the Great Hall with Teddy, it seems like everyone turns to look at them. The teachers are watching at Teddy, their expressions shrewd, and Victoire realizes that to them, Teddy looks like a troublemaker. ( _Ha_ , she thinks. _Teddy Lupin,_ my _Ted, a troublemaker?_ Clearly, they’ve never watched him subject himself to one of Lily’s ‘makeovers’ and not complain once because he knows it makes the little girl’s day.) More than a few of them look like they regret making him a prefect. The girls, on the other hand, are mostly staring at Teddy—Victoire was right in thinking that the girls would go even crazier over him—but some of them are glaring at her, too. And the boys, of course, well… they’re almost all staring at her, mouths slack.

 _Thanks a lot, Veela Charm_ , she thinks frustratedly later that night, after five boys have asked her to Hogsmeade. Teddy doesn’t even look at her the whole meal, but the muscles in his jaw clench each time another bloke tries to flirt with her.

//

Victoire gets her first boyfriend a month into her third year—a Ravenclaw named Michael Davies. He’s a year older than her and almost as cute as Teddy, and when he asks her to Hogsmeade with his cheeks red and normally confident voice stuttering, she immediately says yes. Dominique, now in her first year and in Gryffindor too—in a few more years, the Weasleys will _be_ the Gryffindor House—squeals with joy when Victoire tells her.

Teddy’s not so sure about him, though. He’s seen Michael around the school and on the Quidditch pitch and he says he doesn’t trust him. _He’s a player, Vic. All he cares about are looks._ Victoire ignores him, because Teddy’s gone through at least a dozen different girls that she’s known of, and while she’s never liked any of them—a feeling that’s often mutual—she hasn’t made it a point to break _them_ up.

But Teddy doesn’t change his mind about Michael. In fact, he’s dead-set against them even going out, and spends the entire evening before Hogsmeade trying to convince her to ditch him. And when that doesn’t work, Victoire spots a flash of turquoise tripping out of sight behind her when she’s on her date with Michael. (That hair is pretty hard to miss, after all.)

Later that night, after Teddy admits to following them to make sure that _you were okay, Vic, because I really don’t trust that bloke_ , Victoire explodes. They have their first fight in years, and it’s like they’re making up for lost time or something, because Victoire screams some pretty nasty things at him and he screams them right back at her. They only stop when Professor Longbottom shows up in his dressing robe to tell them off and take twenty points off Gryffindor.

Teddy apologizes the next morning at breakfast, saying that he went too far. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he says, grabbing his third scone off of the tray in front of him. “You’re like a… sister or something to me.”

 _Sister_ , Victoire thinks, busying herself with her toast. As if she isn’t already painfully aware that Teddy will never feel anything but platonic about her. _Nice_. Dominique touches her knee under the table; out of the corner of her eye, Victoire can see the younger girl watching her sympathetically.

“I’m sorry too,” she tells Teddy around the knot in her throat, because she  _was_ sort of a hag last night. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

And when he grins at her happily, she almost manages to smile along with him.

//

Two weeks after Halloween, Victoire overhears Michael Davies bragging about her to his Quidditch mates— _I mean, she’s so_ hot _, mate, and she just can’t resist me. I think I’ve got the hottest bird here. Have you_ seen _her body? Best bum in the school, honest to Merlin. And boobs to boot, too. Do you know that I’m her first kiss and her first boyfriend? Yeah, she’s totally in love with me—_ and breaks it off. He tries to convince her otherwise— _c’mon, babe, I was flattering you, just talking about you to the guys. You know, mate-to-mate stuff, it’s not that big a deal—_ and it’s almost enough to make Victoire take him back. But then she sees the smugness in his eyes and she realizes that Teddy was right—the only thing Michael likes about is her looks.  She’s just a game to him, and she won’t give him the satisfaction of winning like he’s surely used to. So she leaves him standing there mid-sentence and runs towards her Common Room, her eyes burning with tears.

Her plan was to get up to her dorm unhindered so she can just cry, but she forgot to take Teddy into account. He’s curled up in an armchair near the fire, talking to one of his mates—Kyler, she thinks his name is—but he hurries over as soon as he spots her, his brow creased with concern.

“What happened?” he asks worriedly, and when Victoire lets out a sob, he pulls her to him tightly, one hand stroking through her hair. “What’s wrong?”

“You were right,” Victoire weeps, burying her face into his chest. Teddy’s smell—pumpkin juice and broomstick polish and lemon-scented soap—is almost as familiar as her parents’. She breathes it in, out, trying to calm herself down.

Teddy’s arms tighten further. She doesn’t have to say anything else; he knows what she’s talking about. He just takes her up to his dormitory—like the girls’, only messier and smellier—and holds her until she stops crying.

(The next day, she hears from Dominique that one Michael Davies is up in the Hospital Wing with tentacles sprouting out of his face. When she raises an eyebrow at Teddy from across the table, he just winks and finishes eating his toast, leaving Victoire’s cheeks flaming bright red.)

//

Victoire gets her second boyfriend five months later. He’s a Gryffindor this time and in the same year as her, and Teddy knows him from the Quidditch team and (surprise surprise) doesn’t like him.

 _He looks shifty_ , Ted says, running a hand through his hair jerkily. _I dunno, Vic, he seems like a tosser to me. I just don’t like him._

Victoire doesn’t exactly ignore Teddy’s warning, but she doesn’t heed it, either. She still goes to Hogsmeade with Kevin Mclaggen, and thankfully, she doesn’t see Teddy trailing her (for once, she’s almost grateful that he’s off gallivanting around Hogsmeade with his latest girlfriend).

Kevin is nice, if not a little vain. He buys her lunch and talks about his father’s brief Quidditch career and about his own position on Gryffindor’s team. He asks Victoire about herself a little, too, and she accidentally lets it slip that she’s part Veela.

“Wow,” Kevin says, staring at her in wonder. He catches himself just in time to smirk at her. “No wonder you’re so gorgeous, then.”

He kisses her on the stairs to the castle, and a part of Victoire really hopes this relationship might work out.

(The rest of her is staring at Teddy Lupin, who’s laughing and as he lopes up the steps with his arm around Lucy Cabille, and wishing that an owl would take a dump on Lucy’s stupidly shiny brown hair.)

//

On Victoire’s fourteenth birthday, she steps behind a tapestry, planning to use the shortcut to get to the Gryffindor Common Room undetected, and finds Kevin Mclaggen snogging a fourth year Slytherin.

Kevin breaks away from the girl to start in on an endless litany of _listen, sweetheart, it’s not what you think,_ but this time, Victoire’s not sad. She’s just angry, and not quite sure who she’s angry at—Mclaggen, for being the tossiest of tosspots, or herself for not being able to find a decent bloke. She’s not really thinking, either, but Aunt Ginny taught her the Bat Bogey Hex over the summer (“You’re going to need it at Hogwarts, trust me.”) and she’s damned if she doesn’t use it.

The Slytherin girl starts screaming and runs out of the passageway with her hands over her face. Kevin is quick to follow, and Victoire shouts all of Uncle Ron’s worst curse words after him as he hurries away.

After he’s gone, though, she slides down the wall and snarl-screams, slamming her hand down onto the ground and swearing in French a few more times for good measure.

“Wow,” Teddy says appreciatively, stepping through the tapestry with a cautious look on his face. “That’s quite the colourful mouth you’ve got there.”

Victoire blushes. Her hand still smarts from slamming it onto the ground. “How’d you find me?”

Teddy plops himself down beside her, one knee bent. “You remember the map Harry gave me when I first went to Hogwarts?” Victoire nods; he’s shown it to her a couple times. “I was looking for you because I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. But instead I saw that Mclaggen’s dot was suspiciously close to that Slytherin girl’s, and I came down here to try and defend your honour.” He pauses and smirks over at her. Victoire knows he’s half-joking, but her lips thin out anyways. (Because of _course_ the only reason Teddy would do something like that is to  _defend her bloody honour_.) “But you seemed to have done a pretty good job at that yourself. I bumped into them as they ran their way into the Great Hall, shrieking their heads off. Ginny’s teaching, I presume?”

“What was it that gave it away?” she asks dryly, smiling faintly. Within the family, the Bat Bogey Hex has become Aunt Ginny’s trademark as much as  _Expelliarmus_ is Uncle Harry’s.

Teddy laughs and swings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “You okay, though?” he asks quietly as she leans her head against his shoulder. “That was probably pretty crappy. Being cheated on isn’t the greatest. And on your birthday, too. Wow, that boy was a _winner_.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning his head against hers. “Well, minus the birthday stuff. And the boy part. Remember Anita? Fifth year Hufflepuff my fourth year?” Victoire nods. “Found her in an abandoned classroom with a bloke’s hand up her shirt. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened.”

“ _Classy_ ,” Victoire says to lighten the mood.

“Oh, yeah,” Teddy tells her, grinning. “That girl was just  _bundles_  of class. Pity I didn’t bring her home to Nan before she shagged half the school.”

Victoire can’t help but laugh along with him. She’s so content right now that she can almost forget that Teddy will never like her back.

//

By the time Victoire starts her fourth year, she’s decided—much to the delight of her father, various uncles and Teddy—to stay away from boys for the unforeseeable future. There’d been a boy over the summer, this time a Muggle from the nearby village, but he had seemed to only want to snog her and thus dropped her at her first mention of the word ‘relationship’. As far as she’s concerned, she’s more than willing to wait for them to get out of what Aunt Hermione so eloquently calls the emotional-range-of-a-teaspoon phase.

(When Teddy hears, he asks, “every boy but me, right? Because I’m too cool to exclude,” and then dances away, grinning, when Victoire tries to slap him.)

But Teddy, on the other hand, has no such qualms when it comes to dating. He isn’t a player by any means—Victoire knows that he always treats his girlfriends like gold, no matter how long they last—but he goes through a whole lot of girls. And most of the time it doesn’t end well for him. Teddy seems to have similar luck to her in the field of love—girls break his heart as much as he accidentally breaks theirs. She’s not quite sure why he even bothers with the whole thing, frankly.

Just before Christmas, Teddy finds his latest catch, Cora Zabini, shagging a fellow Slytherin in the Room of Requirement and breaks up with her right there—forgetting, of course, that Cora isn’t used to being broken up with. And so the next day, in true mean girl fashion, she tells everyone that Bad Boy Teddy Lupin, infamous lady-killer, was nervous and a lousy shag when he lost his virginity to her a month ago and she’s glad to be shot of him.

Rumours consume the school quickly after; in the more than too-much-information whirlwind that follows, Victoire unwillingly hears that the whole thing apparently lasted two minutes and that Teddy’s hair flashed through the rainbow when he, well,  _you know_ (because that was the one image Victoire definitely needed in her head.  _Eurgh._ Can you Scourgify a brain?).

Teddy’s hair turns red with embarrassment when he finds out what happened, and it stays that way for the rest of the day. Dominique, the newest Gryffindor Chaser, tells Victoire he was so rubbish at practice that he ended up telling everyone to take just the night off.

On the train ride home, he sits with his friends instead of Victoire, and as soon as the train stops, he holes himself up in his room. He becomes so good at being a hermit that the first time that Victoire sees him post-Cora is at the Weasleys’ annual Christmas Eve party. And even then he tries to stay away from everyone else, never lingering in one spot for too long. Finally, at half ten, she finds him in the scullery, sitting against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest.

“Happy Christmas,” Victoire greets him, plopping down next to him and proceeding to shove a Father Christmas hat onto his head.

“Happy Christmas, Vic,” he says sullenly, not even looking at her.

Victoire sighs and turns towards him. “Merlin, Ted, are your knickers  _still_ in a knot over what that hag said?”

“Sort of, I guess,” he answers, glancing at Victoire with an attempt at a smile. “I mean, I really liked her. And I also wasn’t exactly keen on the whole school knowing the status of my virtue. _Especially_ now that your cousins and siblings are starting to infiltrate the place, y’know? Some of them look up to me. I don’t want to set a bad example for them or anything. Or for you.”

Victoire wants to tell him to shut the hell up, because he’s a Prefect and Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and he got 10 OWLs—eight Os and two Es—last year. (She also wants to kiss him, because she’s pretty sure she’s never going to find another boy like him. It’s totally his fault that her expectations for blokes are as high as they are.) “Oh come  _on_ , Ted,” she says instead, bumping her shoulder against his. “Look, it’s no big deal. You’re a sixth year, and you’re not exactly unpopular with the various witches of Hogwarts, either. Honestly, if anything’s surprising, it’s that it hadn’t happened a lot earlier.”

Teddy raises an eyebrow at her. “Contrary to what must be popular belief, I do not go around stealing the maidenhoods of Hogwarts’ various underage females. I  _do_  have morals, Vic. It may not seem that way, but I assure you that I do have some left.”

“Good thing, too,” Victoire retorts, smirking, “because Cora sure doesn’t.”

“I know, right?” Teddy says lazily, reaching over and twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “I mean, two minutes was just harsh. It had to have been at  _least_ three.”

Victoire snorts one of her Veeky-please-act-like-a-lady snorts and starts belly-laughing. Teddy grins and pulls her against him, his arm warm around her waist.

“I think I might follow your lead and stay away from relationships for a while,” he says quietly once she’s stopped laughing. “Wait to find someone who actually cares about me.”

“Good,” she says. “Because I hate to break it to you, but most of your girlfriends sucksome serious arse _._ ”

Teddy laughs. “Don’t you worry, Vic,” he says, pressing a sloppy kiss against her temple. Victoire blushes Weasley red all the way down to her neck. Luckily, it’s too dark to notice. “You’re the only girl I need.”

(It’s not the first time he’s said it nor will it be the last, but Victoire can’t help but think _right_. _If only_.)

//

Victoire strays from her no-boys-allowed rule five months into her fourth year when she meets Tobias Smith. He’s a year older and in Hufflepuff, and again, Teddy knows him but doesn’t like him (of  _course_ ).

Despite knowing that Tobias is most likely going to screw up royally like all her (three) other boyfriends have, she accepts his invitation to Hogsmeade. He’s a little irritating at times, but he’s nice enough to warrant a second date even _if_ he gets a little handsy at the Three Broomsticks.

And then that second date turns into a third date and then a fourth, and Tobias always seems to expect something  _more_ afterwards, like he deserves a prize for wanting to go out with her or something. It takes a failed ‘date’ in a broom cupboard for her to finally realize that Tobias is a pompous arsewipe who’s only looking for a warm body. She breaks up with him on her way out. His callous response is, “that’s okay, I’m sure there are plenty of birds more willing than a prude like you.”

And she doesn’t want to cry over an arse like him, but she ends up crying these big, fat angry tears anyways. They fall so hard and fast that she can barely see through them, so it’s no surprise when she runs head-first into someone.

“Whoa there— _Vic?_ ” Teddy asks, his hands automatically shooting out to steady her. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and quickly steers her into an abandoned classroom, kicking the door shut behind them. As soon as it bangs closed, he’s got his arms around her, rocking them back and forth. “What happened?”

“I give up on boys,” she sobs, her fingers grabbing hold of the front of Teddy’s robes. “They all suck. I’m never going near them again.”

Teddy laughs gently, rubbing small circles onto her back. “Well that’s just not feasible, love, seeing as a large percentage of your cousins and siblings are boys. And me too, of course.”

Victoire loosens her grip on him a little and makes this weird half-snort, half-giggle noise. Teddy takes advantage of her temporary calm to lift her up onto a nearby desk and sit down beside her. “So what actually happened?” he asks again, his hand touching the small of her back.

“I’ll give you a hint: my last date with Tobias was scheduled in a broom closet.”

“ _What?”_ Teddy says, jerking away from her so fast that she nearly falls off the desk—and he actually does. When he pushes himself back up off the floor, he looks even angrier than before.

“I know, right?” Victoire drawls, though there’s still emotion thick in her voice. “His parting words were, ‘there are plenty of birds more willing than a prude like you.’ How romantic.”

Teddy stares at her in shock, his face slowly contorting into rage. Victoire’s almost scared—she’s never seen him this angry. Finally, he growls and stalks towards the door, fingering his wand. “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment. I’m going to go find that sorry excuse for a bloke and teach him a lesson.”

Victoire pushes herself off the desk and grabs Teddy by the front of his robes just as his hand closes over the doorknob. “Don’t you  _dare_ , Edward Remus Lupin,” she hisses, letting the fabric bunch under her fingers. “You are a _prefect_! You can’t very well go around cursing every arsehole who hurts me.”

Teddy jerks away from her, smoothing his clothes out. “I don’t give a damn if I’m a prefect,” he mutters mutinously, his eyes flashing. Usually, he has the same tawny eyes as his father, but now, they flash from black to blue to red to black again. “He deserves it.”

“Maybe,” Victoire allows, her voice still heated. “But  _you_  don’t deserve to have your Prefect’s Badge stripped because of me, Ted. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

His eyes soften and pause at light blue—the same shade as her eyes, she finally realizes. “I just hate it when boys treat you this way, Vic,” he whispers, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You deserve so much better than tossers like him.”

She reaches up and draws him into a hug, all anger gone. Teddy wraps his arms around her, one hand idly combing through her hair. “I know,” she sighs, pressing the bridge of her nose into his shoulder. Though she’s grown a couple inches over the year, he’s still got a half-foot on her.

“You better,” Teddy says, kissing her temple. Victoire feels her entire face burst into flames.

(Yet two days later, Tobias Smith winds up in the Hospital Wing with a broken arm. Bludger injury from the Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor Quidditch match. Victoire just shakes her head when she hears and wonders how much Teddy paid the Gryffindor Beaters to do it.)

//

Victoire and Teddy start to walk to class together. Not all of them, because Merlin knows that Hogwarts is nothing if not spread out. But Teddy walks with her to Charms when he has double Defense Against the Dark Arts, to Muggle Studies when he has History of Magic in the morning and to whatever she has when he’s got a free period. It’s nice talking to Teddy again; Victoire has other friends—she’s friendly with her dormmates, and she has Dominique as well—but she’s closest to Teddy.

But it  _is_ irking—and all the more awkward when her hand accidently brushes against Teddy’s—when people automatically assume that they must be dating. By now, the whole school knows that Victoire is an eighth Veela, and just like she predicted, it doesn’t make her too popular amongst the rest of her gender. If anything, it seems to make them hate her more. When she walks past with Teddy, girls glare at her. They mutter things like “grave robber” and “jailbait” and other words that rhyme with witch and aren’t nearly as pleasant. Sometimes they even trip her (and by extension, Teddy, because that boy is clumsier than a Hippogriff in a china shop) or use a Severing Charmto make her bag rip open so she’s late for class.

She knows that they’re jealous, and it’s not just because of Teddy. They’re jealous because boys stare at her and smirk and whistle and whisper inappropriate things to their mates when she passes them.  _Well you can have them_ , Victoire wants to scream every time she gets another glare. _You can have them, because I sure as hell don’t want them._ She’s more than done with the leers and superficiality of it. They don’t even see her as a person, just as some pretty trophy doll to be reveled at.

 _True beauty is not how pretty you are, ma chérie_ , her  _maman_  used to say to her. _Eet ees somezhing you cannot see._ (Victoire agrees with the first part but not the last, because she can see Teddy’s beauty in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs.)

Teddy notices her sudden unpopularity, of course. “Are you sure you want me to keep walking with you?” he asks as he walks her to Herbology one day, running a nervous hand through his hair. Victoire wants to swat his hand away and do it herself. “I feel like it’s sort of my fault ‘cause I’m older.”

It is, sort of, but it would happen anyway. “It’s not your fault,” she tells him, punching him lightly on the arm. “Don’t get so full of yourself, Lupin. It’s the Veela blood they’re jealous of.”

Teddy rolls his eyes at her, but he doesn’t stop walking her to class. If anything, he starts walking with her to  _more_ of her classes. (And she’s not exactly complaining about that.)

//

On the eve of Teddy’s seventeenth birthday, Victoire goes to bed early but wakes up abruptly an hour before midnight. After unsuccessfully attempting to fall back asleep for a half hour, she climbs out of bed and sneaks down to the Common Room.

But she’s not the only insomniac in the Common Room tonight—Teddy’s curled up in the chair nearest to the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. It’s not unusual for him; Victoire’s always thought of Teddy as happy, one of the happiest people she’s ever known, but lately she’s caught him staring into the fire on full moons, his eyes a hundred miles away, and she’s not so sure about that anymore.

“Wotcher, Vic,” he croaks out, still facing away from her. Victoire catches the emotion in his voice and immediately knows what he’s thinking about.

“Do you wanna talk?” she asks quietly, settling down on the arm of his chair, resting a hand on his shoulder.

He turns, finally, and gives her a watery smile. Her dad once told her that Metamorphmagi can’t change their appearance if they’re too depressed, and maybe that’s why his hair is a mousy brown now. “I guess… I guess I just miss them,” he whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Victoire fits herself in beside him in the chair, close enough that the entire right side of her body is touching him. “I didn’t even get to know them,” he continues, his voice starting to break. “I don’t even know who they are or what they liked or anything else and I’m proud of them, really proud, but I just really wish they hadn’t died, Vic.”

He pauses to wipe the back of his hand across his eyes and let out a bitter laugh. Victoire’s heart breaks into two. “Usually I’m fine, but then something happens like Harry giving me The Talk or Ginny teaching me new Quidditch moves or Nan helping me with schoolwork and it  _hurts._ And now I’m turning of age and I dunno, Vic, I just really wish my parents were here with me because I feel so lost and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

And then he just breaks down, and Victoire can tell he’s trying not to because he’s a boy and he’s been telling her since he was five that  _boys don’t cry, Vic._ But he can’t stop it, and even though he tries to push her away, Victoire just slides onto his lap and puts her arms around him, guiding his head to her shoulder, rubbing soft circles onto his back.

“I just feel like I don’t even know who I am because I’ve never known them,” he hiccoughs into her hair, his shaking hands pressed against the space between her shoulder blades. “It’s like I’m walking around with a big part of me missing and Harry and Ginny and Nan try, they really do, and I love them, but it’s just not the same, you know?”

Finally he calms down enough that his sobs turn into sniffles, though Victoire’s still holding him and his hands are still clutching at her like he’ll disintegrate if he lets go. “I guess… I guess that’s why I dated all those girls,” he admits hoarsely. “Because I thought they could fill the hole or something. But it didn’t work. They didn’t fix it; they just made it bigger.”

Victoire wants to say something to make him feel better, but she doesn’t know what _can_ be said. How can you comfort someone who’s never known his parents when your own childhood was picture-perfect in comparison? She grew up with two parents and a big family and though that family extended to Teddy too, it wasn’t the same. “I’m sorry,” she finally says, and her own voice is choked with emotion now. She’d do anything to turn back time and stop his parents from dying, even if that meant she would have never met him. But she can’t. Watching him fall apart like this hurts so bad, but she doesn’t know how to make it better. “I’m so sorry, Ted.”

He looks up in surprise, quickly swiping a hand across his puffy eyes. “S’not your fault, Vic,” he says, and there’s a shadow of his usual humour in his voice. “If anything, _I_ should be apologizing to  _you_  for crying on you like that.”

Victoire grabs him by the collar of his shirt—a Holyhead Harpies singlet Ginny gave him for his last birthday—and pulls him in close. “You listen to me, Teddy Lupin,” she says firmly, watching his eyes widen. “Crying does not make you a girl and you are allowed to talk or cry to me whenever the hell you want. That’s what best friends are for. Do you understand?”

Teddy looks almost scared for a moment. His eyes latch onto hers and then drop down to her lips, and Victoire realizes a moment too late just how close they are. For a second, she thinks he’s going to do something mad like kiss her. And he almost does—he starts to lean in a bit, but then he shoots back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Aye aye, cap’n,” he says, managing a smile and a teasing salute. Victoire barely remembers to swat him on the arm.

The crying must have tired Teddy out, because he’s already starting to slur his words. He slowly gets up, shifting Victoire off his lap—Merlin, she was on his _lap_ —and makes his way over the boys’ dormitories. “See you tomorrow, Vic,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting up in a slow smile. “Love you.”

She’s not sure if he meant to say it; after all, it’s not exactly unheard of for best friends to say _I love you_ to each other, but she and Teddy have never said those words other than as a teasing _love you too_ after being insulted.

But just as he slips out of view, his hair flashes from brown to blonde—the same colour as hers.

 _Shut it, Weasley_ , she tells herself as she climbs into her own bed, her head spinning. _It’s not like he likes you anyways._

(But the smallest, most hidden part of her can’t help but hope otherwise.)

//

After Teddy’s birthday, Victoire sets out on a mission. She doesn’t exactly know what the mission _is_ at first, just that it has something to do with Teddy and his parents, but there’s all this nervous energy inside her and she has to do _something_ about it. Eventually, after a week of coming up blank, she writes to Uncle Harry—because if anyone can understand what Teddy’s going through, it’s him—and asks him what he thinks she should do. And he suggests what might be the best plan ever: make him a scrapbook of photos and other information of his parents. He even adds the names of several dozen people he thinks she can get help from.

So after telling Uncle Harry that he’s a genius, Victoire writes to her entire family and Mrs. Tonks and everyone Uncle Harry’s given her plus some, telling them that she’s putting together a late birthday present for Teddy and she needs photos and information about his parents. She even goes to Headmistress McGonagall and Hagrid and some of the other teachers for help.

She finally manages to get it done by the time her fifteenth birthday rolls around. The response is delightfully overwhelming; she ends up with hundreds of photos of Teddy’s parents from all ages. Baby photos. Toddler photos. Photos of Remus and the rest of the Marauders at school and afterwards, their arms around each other, always smiling or on the verge of it. Photos of the Order—both the one before Voldemort “died” and the one where he came back. Photos of Tonks at school and in Auror Training. Photos of them getting married, Tonks wearing a mint-green dress that sets off her spiky pink hair wonderfully and Remus smiling and looking ten years younger as he kisses her. Photos of pregnant Tonks. Photos of baby Teddy.

And though she asked for information about Remus and Tonks, what she gets instead is better: memories. Uncle Harry writes four pages on his memories of Remus and two more on Tonks, and Aunt Ginny, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron write almost as much. Grandma Molly writes a couple more pages on Tonks and another three on how _Remus took almost two bloody years—excuse the language, sweetheart—to accept that Tonks was in love with him and that nothing was going to change that. Thought he was too poor and old and “not good” for her, but the truth was that they were as perfect for each other as Arthur and I,_ and Victoire gets a couple more pages from Headmistress McGonagall and Hagrid. It seems like everyone’s jumping at the change to talk about Teddy’s parents, and she’s more than grateful for that.

She gives Teddy the scrapbook in the evening, after the Battle of Hogwarts service is long over. The Common Room is empty except for her and Teddy, who’s by the fire again, reading a book. That’s another thing she’s picked up on over the years—on the night before and the night of the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Teddy can’t sleep. He’ll come into the Great Hall with bags the size of Hagrid’s Wellingtons under his eyes and yet still try and say that ‘nothing’s wrong’.

“Hey, Ted,” Victoire says quietly, sitting down beside him carefully.

He marks the page in his book and puts it down, turning towards her. “Wotcher, Vic,” he says, his smile almost convincing. His hair is still turquoise, but there’s brown peeking through at the roots. “What’s up?”

She smiles nervously and pulls the present from behind her back—badly wrapped, as she’s never quite got the hang of wrapping things prettily like her _maman_ does—and hands it to him. “I’ve got something for you,” she tells him softly, biting her lip. _What if he doesn’t like it? What if I just make things worse? Oh God, what if this just makes him miss them more?_ “Think of it as a very late birthday present.”

Teddy’s eyes light up as he takes the parcel from her. “You already gave me a present, though,” he says, glancing up at her questioningly.

“Yeah, but that was just a load of sweets so it doesn’t count,” she says. “Now _open_ , Lupin.”

He laughs and complies, pulling the paper off with ease. His brow furrows in confusion as he looks at the cover of the scrapbook, but then he opens it and his eyes widen.

Victoire scoots closer to him so she can watch over his shoulder. The first photo is of Remus and Tonks holding Teddy at St. Mungo’s, both of them looking so happy. Teddy swallows thickly, turns the page and reads.

_Teddy,_

_Your dad was one of the bravest people I’ve ever known, and definitely the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has ever had. I’ve never known anyone who could go through as much hardship as he did and still be as brave and selfless as he was. He was kind to everyone—when Professor Snape told him not to ask Neville for help, your father did anyway because he believed in Neville._

_I first met Remus on the train to my third year, when Ron, Hermione and I went into the last compartment and found a tired-looking man with worn clothes sleeping on one of the seats. After the Dementors attacked the train—long story—and I passed out because of my mum and dad, he cast the Patronus Charm to save us. He was the one who taught me to cast it, actually…_

Teddy makes a noise like a whimper and turns the page, his hands trembling violently. The next photo is of the Marauders, smiling and laughing with their arms around each other. James is winking at the camera, Sirius is smirking, Remus is smiling shyly and Peter is attempting to grin. You can tell that they were the best of friends just by looking at the photo.

_Mr. Lupin,_

_When your father first came to school, he was a kind boy who kept to himself. There were three other Gryffindor boys his year—James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. At first, they weren’t friends. But then James and Sirius came into my classroom one day with their arms over Remus’s shoulders, and from them on they were inseparable. There’s a cabinet in Filch’s chambers dedicated to their misdeeds, though Remus was always the voice of reason in the group. Frankly, I believe he’s the only reason the rest of them survived into adulthood. I don’t know when the other boys figured out Remus was a werewolf, but in their third year, James, Sirius and Peter successfully transformed into Animagi to keep him company on full moons…_

Victoire places a hand on Teddy’s shoulder as he lets out a quiet sniffle and turns the page again. This time it’s a photo of Tonks, changing her nose for the amusement of those around her—first a pig’s nose, then a beak, then a grotesque honker like she’s seen in portraits of Snape.

_Ted—_

_Your mother was one of my closest friends. She was almost always cheerful; the only time I’ve ever seen her down was when your dad was being a prat and trying to stay away from her. Her hair was always this bright colour—usually pink. That was her favourite colour, I think. And she was so loyal to the Order, Ted. She supported Dumbledore even when most of the world didn’t and risked her job to help us. She gave up her life to make yours better, and I know that’s no consolation, but it’s true. And Merlin, was she ever clumsy—there was this great big troll leg umbrella stand in Order Headquarters, and she almost always managed to knock it over when she came in…_

Teddy looks through the whole thing, pausing only to wipe away a few stray tears before they can fall and smudge the pages. Carefully, he sets the book down on the table like it’s made of glass and then turns to Victoire, his eyes bloodshot.

“You, uh, said that you felt like you didn’t know who you are because you didn’t know your parents,” she says, wringing her hands in her lap nervously. “So I wrote to people and asked for information about them—”

He reaches over and grabs her tight, tucking her into his chest. Victoire manages to free her arms enough to hug him back. “Thank you,” he whispers croakily. When he bows his head down into her shoulder, she can feel his tears dripping onto her hair. “Thank you so much.”

They stay like that for a while, Teddy just holding her and her holding him back. “I’d do anything for you, Teddy,” Victoire whispers after a while, and even though it’s true—embarrassingly, incredibly true—it’s a dangerous thing to say. Especially when she has so much to lose.

He pulls back just enough to look at her, brushing the pads of his thumbs against her cheeks. He doesn’t bother to wipe his eyes, but he’s stopped crying and his eyes are dry. Looking at him now, she can see everything, every single emotion and feeling flitting through his eyes. There’s nothing between them. _Maman was wrong_ , she thinks again in some distant universe.

They stay like that for a few moments, neither daring to move, and Victoire doesn’t know what’s going on, just that she doesn’t think she’s breathing right now and she’s not sure if Teddy is either. And then he closes the space between them and kisses her.

A common thread of thought during some of History of Magic’s duller moments is what kind of kisser Teddy Remus Lupin is. The girls gossip about it enough, but there’s so many different stories that Victoire doesn’t know which to believe. But now, at least for her, the answer is _gentle_. His lips are soft against hers and she can taste the salt from his dried tears, and his fingers are still cupping her face, and she’s pretty sure she just sighed into his mouth, and—

When he finally pulls away, much too soon, his cheeks are flushed and Victoire has to remind herself how to breathe. Too late, she realizes that Teddy’s staring at her, waiting cautiously for a reaction. “That better not have been a thank you kiss, Ted,” she says once her vocal cords start to work again.

He shakes his head and laughs breathlessly, drawing her back to him and pecking her lips once, twice. Victoire can’t stop the smile from spreading across her face, and by the looks of it, neither can he. “I’m not in the habit of thank-you snogging girls I’ve been in love with for the last three years, Vic.”

( _Three years three years three years._ )

“Three years?” she manages to choke out.

“Actually, I think I’ve been in love with since we first met,” he admits, resting his forehead against hers.

She feels like she’s just eaten Honeyduke’s entire stock of Fizzing Whizzbees. And Peppermint Toads. And possibly gotten the worst of a Cheering Charm, because she _just can’t stop giggling, damn it._ “Me too,” she says, and Teddy swallows her laughter with a kiss.

//

They make it until the Quidditch world Cup without Victoire’s family finding out. Well, Dominique already knows, and Victoire thinks Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry do too—both were awfully understanding when she owled them for information about Teddy’s parents—but she’s not sure. And that’s a miracle in itself considering her family—none of them know how to keep a secret. They’re worse than gossiping old ladies. If defeating Voldemort had depended on them keeping secrets from each other, the world would still be at war.

Two days before the big Brazil versus Bulgaria World Cup Final, Victoire walks into the Potters’ tent for breakfast and sits down beside Teddy. All of the adults are there and finishing up breakfast, and the kids—even Dominique, which is a little weird—are playing outside with Professor Longbottom. Victoire’s drinking tea, trying to keep from reaching out to take Teddy’s hand beneath the table because there are far too many witnesses, when Aunt Ginny looks up from the newspaper and clears her throat.

“So,” she says, and Victoire’s breath catches. She and Teddy look up together and glance around the table, scared that they’ve been found out. Everything looks perfectly normal, except Victoire’s dad is staring down at his plate and several of her aunts and uncles look like they’re holding back grins. Victoire’s stomach clenches. “Rita Skeeter wrote an article on us for the _Daily Prophet_ today, and there’s a section I think you’ll find really funny, Ted. D’you want me to read it for you?”

Teddy nods, knowing it’s a rhetorical question and he really has no choice anyway. Ginny clears her throat again. “ _One always hates to invade the privacy of young people, but the fact is that anyone closely connected with Harry Potter reaps the benefits and must pay the penalty of public interest. No doubt Potter will be distressed to know that his seventeen-year-old godson Teddy Lupin—a lanky half-werewolf with bright blue hair—has been behaving in a way unbefitting of wizarding royalty since arriving on the VIP campsite. It might be asking too much that the always-busy Potter keep a tighter rein on this wild boy, who was entrusted to his care by his dying parents, but one shudders to think what will become of Master Lupin without urgent intervention. Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley might like to know that their beautiful, blonde daughter Victoire seems to be attracted to any dark corner where Master Lupin happens to be lurking. The good news is that both of them seem to have invented a method of breathing through their ears. I can think of no other reason how they have survived such prolonged periods of what, in my young day, was called ‘snogging.’”_

Victoire watches Teddy as Aunt Ginny reads. First, he’s lifting an eyebrow at Rita Skeeter’s description of him. Then, as Ginny gets to the _entrusted to his care by his dying parents_ part, Teddy’s jaw clenches. Since Victoire gave him the scrapbook, he’s gotten a lot better; he doesn’t stare into the distance anymore, and though she knows he’s still working things out, he seems happier than she’s ever seen him.

Then, when they get to the _lurking in dark corners_ line, the tips of Teddy’s hair turns the same shade of red as his cheeks. He’s not the only one, though; as soon as Victoire’s name is mentioned, she gulps and feels her face flush.

After Ginny finishes speaking, no one says anything. On the opposite side of the table, Victoire’s dad’s face is getting steadily redder and redder and Uncle Harry is grinning into his teacup. “Well,” Teddy says after a few moments, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I guess this is the intervention, then?”

Uncle Ron snorts into his bacon. The noise seems to snap Victoire’s father back to reality, and he glares around at his siblings and various in-laws and says, “could you leave us for a minute?”

Aunt Ginny sets the paper down firmly and glares back at him steadily. “I’m staying to mediate.”

“I’m staying to mediate Gin’s mediating,” Uncle Harry adds, looking a little nervous. Victoire feels sorry for him.

“I’m just staying for the entertainment, mate,” Uncle Ron says cheerfully, wincing when Aunt Hermione jabs her elbow into his ribs.

“Ditto,” says Uncle George, grinning at Victoire. She’s too nervous to grin back. Behind him, Aunt Angelina gives her one of her Special Quidditch Captain _you can do this_ looks and a smile. It’s not as comforting as usual.

“Me three,” says Uncle Charlie, leaning back in his chair.

“ _Fine_ ,” Victoire’s dad grumbles, turning his glower onto her and Teddy. _Uh oh._ “Does either of you want to explain?”

“We, uh, may have been dating since May,” Victoire says meekly, stealing a glance at Teddy. His hair is turning a violent shade of fuchsia.

“ _What_?” her dad roars, his chair squeaking against the floor as he stands up suddenly. With a huff, Victoire’s _maman_ pulls her husband back into the chair and throws him a cross look. “This has been happening since _May_?”

“Yeah,” Aunt Ginny says, looking impressed. “You’ve been able to successfully hide this since _May?_ Harry and I didn’t even last a day once the war was over.”

“That’s because you insisted on snogging me in front of everyone, Gin,” Uncle Harry reminds his wife, looking at her amusedly. “ _Multiple_ times.”

Victoire’s dad throws everyone another glower and starts to open his mouth, but Victoire cuts him off. “I’m _fifteen_ , Daddy,” she says, feeling the Weasley/Veela anger start to bubble to the surface. “ _Not_ five. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

“ _Fifteen_? You shouldn’t be dating ‘til you’re thirty—”

Aunt Ginny snorts darkly. “Oh come _on_ , Bill,” she snaps at him. “You have no bloody right. Shall I dig up that file I have on you and your many escapades?”

Victoire’s dad spits a mouthful of tea all over Uncle Ron. “Merlin’s saggy left buttock, Bill,” the younger man sighs, wiping resignedly at the wet spot on his jumper. Aunt Hermione rolls her eyes at him and siphons the tea off with a wave of her wand. Uncle Ron grins at her in thanks before turning back to his brother. “Give the mentally ill, balding sidekick a break, would you?”

Her dad ignores him. “You have a _file_ on me and my love life?” he asks Aunt Ginny incredulously, so surprised that he forgets to be angry.

“I have a file on _all_ of my dear brothers,” she says promptly, leaning back and giving each aforementioned brother a wicked smile. “Figured it would be useful for when I started to date.”

All Weasley males immediately start spluttering. “Oh, shut it,” she says casually, like she hasn’t just dropped the mother of all Dungbombs on her siblings. “Right then, back to the original point: you had to know this was going to happen _eventually_ , Bill. I mean, they’ve been in love with each other forever. Even _you_ had to have seen that.”

Victoire’s dad drops his head onto the table and mutters something unintelligible. “C’mon, Bill,” Aunt Ginny continues, her voice growing softer. She knows she’s close to breaking him. “This is just like Harry and I. They’re basically meant for each other.”

“But that’s what I’m afraid of,” he whines. “You and Harry are married now. You have— _kids_.”

“Yes,” Aunt Ginny retorts crisply, rolling her eyes testily. “There is now living proof that Harry and I have shagged at least three times. We _know_.” All Weasley brothers present choke on their food and start glaring at Uncle Harry, who, being the brave Head Auror that he is, ducks behind his wife for cover. Aunt Ginny takes a deep breath and exhales it through her nostrils like an angry Hungarian Horntail. “The point _is_ ,” she continues, glaring at her brother, “that Victoire could do a hell of a lot worse than Ted, and you know it.”

“Yeah,” Uncle Harry says, his voice still a little squeaky from the recent threat against his life. “Even if he ‘distresses me’ frequently, he’s a good kid.”

Victoire watches her father’s shoulders slump. Finally, the dragon has been defeated. “ _Fine_ ,” he groans, lifting his head up to give all present a pouty glare. There are red lines across his face from the placemat. “But I _will_ be monitoring those dark corners.”

“Fair enough,” Teddy says mildly, his hair finally turning turquoise again. “The wild boy can deal with that.” Victoire’s dad turns to Teddy, his glare snapping to full attention. The scars just add icing to the scary-cake. “And I also, uh, really love your daughter and have no plans to harm her in any way or push her into anything she doesn’t want to do,” Teddy finishes, speaking so rapidly that his words blur together.

“Funny,” her dad says darkly. “There were some _interesting_ rumours I heard about your fifth year, Lupin.”

Teddy’s skin blanches at the same time that hair turns red. “I—uh—”

“ _Beell!”_ Victoire’s _maman_ shrieks, breaking through the sound barrier. Victoire jumps back reflexively, as do several others nearby. “We agreed zat was not to be _discussed!_ ”

“Yeah, Bill,” Aunt Ginny mocks, crossing her arms. “Shall we discuss that file of yours? Because from what I heard, you got up to some pretty interesting things at the end of your fourth year.”

The flame has caught. Everyone else starts to inch their chairs away, anxious to not wind up as collateral damage in yet another infamous Weasley Explosion. Over Aunt Ginny’s head, Uncle Harry mouths the word _run_ at Victoire with wide eyes. Immediately taking heed, Victoire grabs Teddy’s hand and pulls him out of the tent as fast as she can.

“Wow,” she says once they’re in the safety of Aunt Luna’s tent. Panting, she stretches out on the floor of the tent and runs a hand through her hair. “That was, uh… that was slightly worse than expected.”

“You think?” he asks sarcastically, but he’s laughing breathlessly as he flops down beside her gracelessly. The knees of his jeans are stained green; he’d surprisingly only tripped once on the way there, a feat that Victoire thinks must break several records.

“Hey, you’re the _lurker_ ,” Victoire retorts, unable to stop herself from giggling. “Teddy Lupin, Metamorphmagus, Hogwarts Prefect, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and _lurker of dark corners._ ”

“That was _your_ idea,” he whines, pouting at her. “‘ _Oh, they’ll never see us here, Ted. It’s fine._ ’”

“You didn’t have to go along with me!”

“ _Right_ ,” he says, smirking. “Because when my beautiful girlfriend tells me that she wants to spend some alone time in a dark corner without any adult supervision, the first thing that pops into my mind is, _hmm, maybe I shouldn’t listen to her_.”

Victoire swats him on the arm, but she’s laughing. “Skeeter was right,” she says. “You _do_ behave in a way unbefitting of wizarding royalty.”

“You do absolute _wonders_ for my self-confidence, love,” Teddy sighs, shaking his head.

 “Don’t worry,” she tells him, throwing him her most dazzling smile. “I still love you.”

“Gee, thanks, Vic,” he says, but he’s grinning with all his teeth as he twines his fingers with hers.

//

When school starts again, they have even less time for each other. It’s Teddy’s NEWTs year and Victoire’s OWLS year, plus Teddy’s been appointed Head Boy—probably the only Head Boy in Hogwarts history with blue hair and ear piercings— _and_ Quidditch captain and Victoire’s a prefect, so between all that and schoolwork/studying, they don’t have much free time.

“What’s going to happen when you graduate?” she whispers one day in the library, her back against Teddy’s chest.

“Well, I’m going to go into Auror training,” Teddy says, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “And you’re going to finish school and then go into Healing or whatever else you want to do and we’re going to ride off into the sunset together in a carriage of flying palominos.”

Victoire snorts. “No, you idiot,” she says. “I mean _us_. I’ll be stuck here for two years after you leave. We’ll barely see each other.”

“Hey,” he says, turning her around to face him. “I love you, Vic. I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon. And it’s not like we won’t see each other for two whole years; there’s still Christmas and Easter and summer hols, _and_ Hogsmeade days. And Ron likes to tell stories about how his Auror Badge let him into Hogwarts whenever he wanted.”

She sighs, turning her face into his chest. “I just hope you don’t meet some other eighth-Veela at Auror training,” she mutters.

Teddy laughs. “Even if they’re _full_ Veela, they’ll have nothing on you, love.”

//

Teddy’s graduation is a little more than tearful. Victoire makes sure to stick close to him for as much of it as possible, knowing that Auror training starts in a month and she’s not going to see him much once it starts.

The entire Weasley family plus Andromeda shows up to congratulate him. Even Victoire’s dad has something to say to Teddy, though he’s calmed down considerably since the World Cup. “Nice job, Teddy,” he mutters, clapping his hand to Victoire’s boyfriend’s shoulder and giving him an almost grudging smile. “I guess I can’t dislike you too much anymore.”

Teddy just grins at him. And as soon as the older man’s back is turned, he strides over to Victoire and presses his lips to hers, twirling her around until both of them are dizzy.

“Don’t worry,” he says once her feet (but not the rest of her) are back on the ground. “It’s not the end, Vic. It’s just the start of the beginning.”

//

Shell Cottage is out of bounds, because although Bill Weasley has warmed up significantly to Teddy, he gets irritated when his sixteen-year-old daughter spends too much unsupervised time with him. So they mostly just go over to Teddy’s grandmother’s place. She says she doesn’t mind, even if they hang out in Teddy’s room. _Just keep the door open, and Teddy, dear, remember that the walls are thin._ (Talk about _mortifying_.)

Victoire spends the night before Teddy leaves for Auror training at the Mrs. Tonks’ house. She and Teddy don’t do anything, just snog and cuddle and talk a lot, but her dad is beyond furious when she comes home. (“You’re not even of age yet, Vicky!”) But waking up next to Teddy and seeing him give her that smile of his—mischievous and happy and warm and dangerous, a combination that Victoire thinks should be illegal—is more than worth it.

//

Hogwarts is a whole lot lonelier without Ted. Sure, the Weasley rug-rats are starting to dominate Gryffindor—Louis and Molly are second years now, and James, Fred and Roxanne are firsts—so she _does_ have friends and people to talk to, but it’s still so lonely. Victoire spends her days in a monotonous cycle of studying and prefect-ing and keeping her relatives in check.

“You really miss him, don’t you?” Dominique whispers one day in the Common Room. The place is nearly empty; everyone else went upstairs hours ago.

Victoire looks up from her sister’s Potions essay and sighs. “Yeah, I do.”

//

Despite their plans, Auror training keeps Teddy busy enough that he misses the first two Hogsmeade weekends. Victoire spends them with her roommates and siblings instead, but startles each time she sees a flash of blue. (How did she never realize how popular a colour blue is?)

The first time she sees Teddy since the summer is on Platform 9 and ¾ for Christmas holidays. He’s the first thing she sees, and the familiarity of him, all messy turquoise hair and toothy grins, makes her heart stop. She drops her trunk (“Merlin, Vicky, watch it!” Louis hisses, jumping away from the falling trunk. “You almost dropped it on my toe!”) and immediately hurtles herself at him. Teddy barely manages to catch her in time.

“Missed me that much, did you?” he laughs after she pulls away, spinning her around in a circle.

Her father’s pursing his lips at her over Teddy’s shoulder, so she just kisses Teddy again in response.

(And again and again and again, just like she plans to do for the rest of winter holidays.)

//

When Teddy shows up at the annual Battle of Hogwarts commemoration ceremony in May, his hair pink for his mum, the first thing he says to Victoire is, “so a little birdie told me that you turned of age today.”

He pulls a necklace out of his pocket, and Victoire watches the dark stone hanging off the end of it glint in the sunlight. “What’s this?” she asks him as he slips the silver chain over her head, his cool fingers working at the clasp.

“It’s a mood stone,” he tells her, lifting her hair over the chain gently. “Changes colour depending on your emotions. So now I’ll be able to tell when I’ve gotten you all hot and bothered.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless, leaning in and kissing him square on the mouth. “And do you know what my coming of age means?”

“That I can have sex with you and your dad legally can’t do anything about it?”

Victoire laughs. “ _Teddy!_ ” (But the mood stone turns bright red, because she’d be lying if she said that fact hadn’t crossed her mind.) “No, you idiot. It means that I’ll be able to get my Apparation license so we can see each other on Hogsmeade weekends.”

“Oh,” he says, smiling innocently. Victoire follows his eyes down to the mood stone—now a brilliant pink—resting on the fullest part of her chest and frowns at him, tucking the necklace out of sight. His eyes snap back up to hers, still looking as innocent as an angel. (Teddy, innocent? _Right_.) “Well, I guess that works too.”

//

Teddy’s training eases up over the summer. It’s a two year program, if you’re lucky—the first year is the initial weeding out, and if you get accepted after that, you go through another year of training.

When she first sees him again after her sixth year, there’s another ring in his left ear, halfway between the first two. He’s gotten a tattoo, too, a magical one of the moon on the inside edge of his right forearm. It changes with the different phases of the moon; when he first shows it to her, it’s a black half-moon. Victoire knows immediately who he got it for and wants to cry. _This boy._ Teddy’s a paradox—he has blue hair, ear piercings and a tattoo and wears band-shirts and flannels and jeans and dragon-hide boots, all the hallmarks of a troublemaking punk, but he’s the sweetest and best person she’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. He’s incredible—she’ll never understand how she ended up with someone so wonderful as her best friend, let alone her boyfriend.

“You like it?” he asks, tilting her chin up towards him with a long finger. Victoire’s shocked to see that he looks nervous—though her opinion wouldn’t have changed his decision, it still matters to him more than she’d thought. The realization makes her blush.

“I love it,” she says, and kisses him to prove it.

//

Victoire’s first time doesn’t go over very well. It hurts more than her roommates said it would and the pain doesn’t stop no matter how hard she tries to relax—just sort of numbs a bit after a while—and Teddy’s too worried about her being in pain for it to be pleasurable for either of them.

The second time is marginally better, because it doesn’t hurt so much anymore and Teddy tries really hard to be as gentle as can be (bless him). It’s only the third time, when it stops hurting entirely and Teddy’s learned enough of what works and what doesn’t to crack her open in wonderful ways, that things take a sharp turn for the _oh-my-fucking-Merlin_ kind of better.

Afterwards, Teddy flops away from her dramatically, his chest heaving. The sight of him—cheeks flushed, lips swollen red, bare underneath the sheets—against her pillows is breathtaking. Panting, he grins at her slowly and says, “ _whoa_.”

Victoire’s too blissed out to smack him. She’s not even sure she can form coherent sentences right now. “You know,” she says after a few moments, turning towards him and copying his grin, “Cora was right about one thing.”

Teddy shifts his body towards her and gives her a quizzical look. The sheet’s low around his hips—Quidditch kept Teddy well-toned at school, but Auror training has done some wonderful things for his body—and his hair is an absolute mess, and Victoire feels a little too smug for her own good. “Oh?” he says, raising an eyebrow at her. “And what would that be?”

“That your hair flashes through the rainbow when you finish,” she says without a trace of shame.

“Does it really?” he asks interestedly, running a hand through his hair. “Huh. I’d never have known.”

“Cora didn’t tell you?”

“Nah,” Teddy says, smirking at her. “She was too busy giving me pointers.” Victoire snorts. “And seeing as blokes typically don’t stare into mirrors when they get off—with the possible exception of one Michael Davies—I wouldn’t have found that out on my own, either.”

She swats him this time and he just grins, drawing her in for a kiss. After he pulls away, Victoire says, “for the record, I don’t think you’re a lousy shag.”

Teddy bursts out laughing, entirely too loud for the quiet of the house around them, and intertwines his fingers with hers. Victoire feels like she’s on top of the moon. “Thanks, Vic.”

//

 

It’s four a.m. and Victoire and Teddy are on the floor of his grandmum’s kitchen, desperately trying not to laugh. She doesn’t know what’s so funny, but Teddy’s head is in her lap and her fingers are combing through his hair and she can feel the vibrations from his laughter all the way up to her chest, and really, they just came down for tea.

“I think we woke Nan up,” Teddy says quietly, lacing his fingers through hers.

“Whoops,” Victoire giggles, leaning back against the cabinet. It wouldn’t be exactly ideal for Mrs. Tonks to come down and catch her half-naked grandson and his equally half-naked girlfriend laughing themselves silly on the kitchen floor.

They wait in silence for a little bit, listening, but when they don’t hear anyone coming down the stairs, Teddy whispers, “I want to do this forever.”

Victoire stops combing her fingers through his hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes. “I want to go downstairs at four in the bloody morning for tea and find myself on the floor, laughing with you. I want to go to sleep with you beside me and wake up with you there, too. And do that again and again for the rest of my life.”

Victoire doesn’t really know what to say to that, but her heart feels like it’s trying to jump out of her chest and Merlin, does she ever want that, so she leans down and kisses him hard. When she finally pulls away, his hair is half-blond. Noticing, Teddy grins dazedly and quickly changes it back.

“Hey, Vic?” he asks after a few minutes, raising his head out of her lap and sitting down beside her.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how I said that I felt like there was this hole inside me?”

“Mhm?”

He turns his head and presses a kiss against her temple, twining his fingers through hers again. “You fixed it.”

Victoire shifts, leaning her body against him. “No I didn’t, Ted,” she whispers. “You fixed yourself.”

“Maybe,” he allows, pulling her closer. “But without you, I wouldn’t have been able to. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

She smiles, hiding her face in his shoulder. “How did I ever end up with someone as amazing as you?”

“Dunno,” Teddy answers, smirking.

She just laughs and pulls him to her by the back of his neck. It’s a clumsy kind of kiss—their noses bump and their teeth knock together—but sitting on the kitchen floor, both of them way too alive to go back to sleep, it doesn’t matter.

(And if Mrs. Tonks thinks they’re crazy when she walks into the kitchen the next morning and finds her grandson lying on the floor beside his girlfriend, him wearing nothing but his boxers and her wearing only a long shirt over her knickers, their hands intertwined, she makes no comment.)

//

The day that she has to leave for her last year at Hogwarts comes too soon. Victoire pouts all the way to King’s Cross and then some for good measure, because Teddy was supposed to meet her on Platform 9 and ¾ and he’s not here yet. She’d seen him the night before at the Burrow’s annual end-of-summer party, and they both may or may not have gotten a little drunk (and handsy), but he’d promised to meet her on the platform before she left for Hogwarts.

And now it’s ten to eleven and Teddy’s _still_ not here. Victoire’s dad and brother leave to go haul her trunk onto the train, but she opts to pace across the platform and wait for her blue-haired git of a boyfriend to show up.

Finally, at five to eleven, a voice behind her says, “so, on a scale of one to Lord Voldyshorts, how dead am I?”

Victoire spins around, smiles in relief and answers, “Lord Voldyshorts,” before grabbing him by the front of his robes and tugging him behind a stack of luggage.

He pulls her to him as soon as she stops moving, tucking his face into her hair. “I’m going to miss you,” she says, breathing in his pumpkin-juice-broomstick-polish-lemon-soap smell.

“I’m now secure enough in my masculinity to tell you that I’ll miss you too,” Teddy responds, making Victoire laugh wetly. “Are you _crying_ , Vic?”

“No,” she says stubbornly as Teddy draws back from her to peer into her face, frowning. “I’m just hungover.”

“You’re _crying_ ,” he announces, wiping his thumbs under her eyes. “Stop crying.”

“I’m just really going to miss you,” she sniffles, pulling him close again. “You’ll be busy with Auror Training and I won’t be able to see you until _Christmas_.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, stroking her hair. “It’s not forever, Vic. We made it through last year, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” she allows, tightening her grip on him, “but a lot can happen in a year.”

“Plus,” Teddy continues firmly, ignoring her, “I was thinking that maybe once you get out of school, we could look for a flat.”

“Really?” she asks in surprise, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Really,” he says, smirking wickedly. “I mean, I highly doubt one William Arthur Weasley would let his beautiful daughter have her equally attractive boyfriend over for naughty sleepovers.”

 _Naughty sleepovers._ Victoire doesn’t even bother smacking him. “I would very much like to get a flat with you, Mr. Lupin,” she tells him, reaching up to pull his face down to her level. “Even _if_ you smell and leave your pants everywhere.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but Victoire kisses him before he can get the words out. He just smiles against her mouth and pulls her closer, his fingers twining through her hair.

“Ew! Teddy, what’re you _doing_?” James asks from behind them, and Teddy breaks away from Victoire with a groan, bracing a hand against the train. His lips are cherry red; Victoire has to tear her gaze away from them forcibly.

“I’m seeing Vic off, James,” Teddy tells the younger boy, trying to sound patient. “Do you mind?”

“You’re _kissing_ her? That’s so _gross!”_

Teddy rolls his eyes at Victoire as James continues to ramble. Eventually, Teddy just leans in again and presses his lips against Victoire’s. She can feel him smirk against her mouth.

“I’m telling Dad!” James shouts at them. Victoire cracks an eye open just in time to see Teddy give James the finger. Smiling, she closes her eyes and tugs Teddy closer.

Once the sound of James’ footsteps trail away, Teddy pulls away from her. Somewhere far away, the train whistles its two-minute warning. “You’ve gotta get going, Vic,” he whispers, pushing a piece of hair away from her face.

“I don’t wanna,” she whines, wrapping her arms around his middle. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Vic,” Teddy says patiently, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Now get on the train.”

“You’ll be here to pick up at Christmas?”

“And Easter and at the end of term,” he promises, prodding her towards the train door. “I’ll be here, waiting to see you again.”

The train whistles its last-minute warning, and Teddy finally manages to usher Victoire onto the train. “Hey,” he breathes as her foot hits the top step, and Victoire turns on the spot, eyes wide. He catches her wrist and tugs her close, one hand cradling the side of her face. Right now, she can see him clearer than ever before.

Teddy is warmth. He is tea in the early hours of the morning and the warmth in the bed beside her at night. He is blue hair and toothy grins and the hand in hers. He is kind and beautiful and lovely, and in seventy-nine days, he’ll be back by her side, ready to say— “Wotcher, Vic.”

(Again and again and again.)


End file.
